


Purple Rain

by AmelieofK



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieofK/pseuds/AmelieofK
Summary: Junhoe pines over Jiwon in a painful, unrequited love. When he begins dying from spitting out flowers, Hanbin begins to realise that he was not willing to lose Junhoe at all. Sometimes, love is all about letting go, even if it means you have to suffer a bitter end.
Relationships: Goo Junhoe/Kim Hanbin | B.I, Goo Junhoe/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 30
Kudos: 46





	Purple Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My first Hanahaki fic. 
> 
> What is Hanahaki? 
> 
> In fanlore/fanfic trope, Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from an unrequited love. It can be cured through surgical removal of the growth. However, when the infected area is removed, the sufferer's feelings for the person they love is believed to disappear, as well. Many thanks to Twitter username, yana @eriekon for this suggestion.

It started somewhere during the early refrains of autumn. When the wind changes its direction and the breeze was so cold, you could feel it seeping into the cracks of your bones and you shiver in your sleep, no matter if you are young or old. These same winds flitted through the dorms that September and Junhoe remember waking up to a darkness that was surreal. He could feel that tickle in the back of his throat, the one which spelled an impending, if temporary, doom for vocalists like him. The one where he could already feel an ache behind the bridge of his nose in promise of colds yet to arrive and overtake his immune system. It made him wish he was back home so his mother would fix him a cup of butterfly pea flower tea. _Butterfly pea flower_.

_Now why was he suddenly thinking of flowers?_

He ruminated within the chill of this familiar darkness. He turned to his side, clearing his throat, because it felt as if there was something stuck there. Then it was gone. The cold lingered despite the coverlet and the thick winter blankets his mother had already taken out during her last cleaning visit. He could feel the chill creeping up his toes, slowly engulfing his calves. He got up, discarding the shorts he had on before sleeping just now and rushing through the legs of the track pants he had slung over his chair. In the darkness, he could hear the wheels of his chair turning, as it spun away after his hand had accidentally hit it. Socks. He needed socks. He slid the closet door open, bending over to reach for the thick winter socks under the thermal jackets, unrolling them and quickly crashing back in bed, putting them on before the cold could travel up any farther. Then he was back under the covers again, willing himself to sleep. Unsuccessfully, of course.

In all that time he exerted himself to keep warm, the blockage in his throat had returned, as swift and quietly, as it had gone with the initial clearing of his throat. He cleared it again, harder, for good measure. Maybe he needed a drink. There was a bottle of Cutty Sark, unfinished, on his writing table. At the thought that it might calm his throat a little, he got up again, hands patting the table full of papers, both pristine and crumpled, before fingers gently found the smooth, rectangular glass bottle in the darkness. He uncapped it and chugged it down.

“Krrr.” He purred in satisfaction. That should keep him warm. Being at the table reminded him of his attempt at writing early this evening. He had tried to put his current emotions into words, but after almost a notebook filled with unintelligible scribbles, he remained dissatisfied. Not because he was uninspired, but because the subject matter was something a little too close to his heart. He dragged the blankets he had brought along back to bed, after draining the bottle and chucking the empty container back onto the table. He thought about the sordid state of…

_His heart._

That he had protected so well all these years. Not that the years were long, no. He had three, almost four, in total. Solid groundwork for achieving his dreams, earning enough for his family so that they do not have to worry about money and just have the necessary comforts for living. Those were also enough years for him to build a garden in his heart; a secret garden. He might have thought it would not flourished. All he wanted was a place to plant just one minutiae seed of love. Then it had bloomed, quite wildly, uncontrollably and now it had overtaken even the walls, which were supposed to have protected it, the stems overflowing with flowers so distinctively vivid in shades of violets and lavender, he was dearly afraid that his heart was now overwhelmed with his love…

_For one Kim Jiwon._

Junhoe sighed loudly into the darkness. There were words embedded within his cerebrum; meaningful, filled with magnanimous beauty and profound beyond human understanding. They were also discordant and painful at the same time, because as much as he tried to dislodge them, pen them forcefully onto paper, they remained stubbornly embossed within his id. They refused to budge or leave. He had succumbed to the idea that try as he might, it was not paper they wanted to fall upon, these words. They wanted a release that was stronger, bolder. They desired to be professed via his lips, to flow from his mouth ardently and in front of Jiwon, the one who caused that seedling to grow into a garden. But he was too…

_Cowardly._

Afraid. Afraid of many things that had remained as unspoken as his desire to confess to Jiwon. The possibility of ruining all that he had worked for the past four years. The solid groundwork, upturned and shovelled needlessly into turmoil. He only learnt to gaze in secret when he thinks no one is looking, but it only made him want to turn and look even more. He taught himself to be immune to Jiwon’s charms and self-assured confidence, not realising that the more he tried, the more willing had he given up governance over his heart until it was no longer his to own. He instructed himself to tame the flowers, which grew wild in his secret garden only to discover that it had taken over the habitat of his desires until there was no space left for anything else but for him to acknowledge that Jiwon was the only one who mattered in his life.

Junhoe sat up suddenly, caught in a fit of coughing and he could feel something unfurl in his throat, blocking his windpipe. He forced out another cough, hand covering his mouth and he could feel something soft actually shooting itself out from between his lips. He was alarmed at first, thinking it was blood but even though it was soft and wet, there was no give when he ran that softness against his palm with his thumb. Junhoe scrambled out of bed, blankets and cold weather forgotten as his other hand scrambled to turn on the lights, eyes alight with panic as his gaze fell on his hand, still clutching that softness between thumb and palm tightly.

_A petal._

An indigo blue, almost heart-shaped petal from a butterfly pea flower lay on his palms, slightly damp and flat. It left a blue mark against his palm and Junhoe stared after it in disbelief. He coughed again and a spray of petals came pouring from out of his mouth like a fountain of purple-blue rain, showering the floor in a hail of feathery softness. Junhoe’s eyes had widened now in complete and utter horror. A stray petal remained at the edge of his lower lip and he sputtered it out, gazing after it as it listlessly swooped onto the floor to join its comrades to carpet the parquet floors of his room. This cannot be happening, Junhoe thought swallowing the lump in his throat, which was of course, a mistake at this point of time, because it aggravated the itch in his throat and now another flurry of coughs followed by an even thicker cloud of petals began raining into the space between him and the floor. Junhoe decided that he was probably not going to sleep and he sure as hell was going to refrain from coughing.

~~~~~

_Two weeks later…_

“Junhoe-ya. Junhoe?” Yunhyeong shook him by the shoulders when it was his turn to go into the studio. Hanbin glared at him, but he was simply too tired to be mindful of Tiger-Bin today. He sauntered into the studio like a drunkard.

“Let’s take it from the top.” Hanbin called into the intercom.

“_Hyung_~is he okay? Have you both been drinking a lot recently?” Yunhyeong whispered in concern, nudging Jinhwan, who was sitting on the couch beside him, going through his own lines, which had been highlighted on the paper he was clutching. Yunhyeong was worried, because he barely saw Junhoe as well. He went on a crying jag about two weeks ago and then after that he simply suddenly claimed to be tired or sleepy whenever Jinhwan asked him to drink together.

“_Aniya_. He has been going to bed early, as a matter of fact. Said he felt a cold coming.” Jinhwan piped in, wiping the sheen of sweat already pooling across his forehead despite the fact that the whole place was air-conditioned and he was just in a shirt and loose pants ensemble. He went back to the paper and Yunhyeong gazed around the room to see if anyone else was noticing how tired Junhoe really seemed to be today, but everyone seem to be caught in their own worries today. Hanbin had suddenly stood up now and Yunhyeong’s brows furrowed, suddenly alert at the sight of his leader, back straightened, gaze fixed at the panel of the studio. There was the faint sound of Junhoe coughing, which was weird, because Junhoe was normally loud even when he was doing something as mundane as sneezing or coughing. 

“Are you alright, Junhoe-ya?!” There was no denying the concern in Hanbin’s voice and now everyone’s attention was piqued. Hanbin had walked towards the studio and Yunhyeong was close behind him when Hanbin stood frozen at the entrance quite suddenly. Yunhyeong almost walked into his back, peeked over Hanbin’s shoulder, eyes widened at the sight before him. “Yun-_hyung_, get everyone to wait outside please, and tell Jaeho-_hyung_ to call a doctor. “ For all of five seconds, Yunhyeong was unable to even muster a word. He stood behind Hanbin, trying to fathom the sight before him, but no matter how he looked at it, it seemed quite impossible. “_Hyung_, please, before the rest sees this.” Hanbin reiterated and Yunhyeong hearing the others footsteps, tore his gaze away, just in time to hold Jinhwan from advancing any further. There was a quizzical look plastered across Jinhwan’s face.

“Ya~Kim Hanbin? What’s going on? What’s happened to Junhoe? Is he sick?” Yunhyeong could hear Jiwon coming forward from behind Jinhwan.

“Junhoe is not well. “ Yunhyeong managed to choke out the words, but it seem everyone could hear his voice wavering slightly at the mention of the words ‘not well’. Everyone who has worked with Junhoe knew that no matter how unwell he was, he would always give his best. It was ingrained in him to be continually dedicated to his craft. Even as he mouthed those words, something light and airy flitted past Yunhyeong’s shoulder. Jinhwan must have seen it, because his eyes had gone rounder, surprised by the sight of whatever it is. Yunhyeong followed Jinhwan’s gaze above his shoulder and realised that whatever Hanbin needed to keep from them was completely futile now. In the background, Yunhyeong could hear Junhoe still coughing and Hanbin cursing under his breath.

Petals now floated past Yunhyeong in Jinhwan’s direction. A spray of striking violet with a tinge of white in the middle; almost like a flurry of purple snow, light enough to be blown into the atmosphere from the air conditioner blasting in the studio. Hanbin had disappeared into the studio, propping Junhoe up. He was weak, probably running a fever from the way he was shivering and more petals were pouring from his mouth. 

“_Hyung_, help me…” Junhoe croaked, voice muffled by another torrent of petals.

“Yunhyeong, doctor!” Hanbin screamed in panic, half carrying Junhoe out of the studio. Jinhwan stood aside, dumbfounded by the petals now trailing across the air to carpet the floor. As it was, Jaeho-_hyung_ had called for the ambulance, which came about five minutes later, to take Junhoe away. Yunhyeong and Hanbin rode in the ambulance with him. The rest stood there in the studio, their feet buried, an inch deep, in a purple-blue pile of petals, utterly puzzled and concerned.

Hanbin sat at the edge of the bed, watching Junhoe sleeping. The doctor had given him enough sedative to control the coughing and ensure him a good sleep, which was probably all he sorely needed. Junhoe had begged that no one call his family. He did it in the ambulance, holding back tears while his lips kept spitting out petals by the bushel onto Hanbin’s lap. The EMT guy was not even able to take his blood pressure or anything, because he had been too flummoxed by a patient actually vomiting flowers from his mouth, instead of the blood or bile he was accustomed to. His partner was just sitting there smiling, as if holding back laughter, but neither Yunhyeong nor Hanbin was smiling because Junhoe was looking pale and extremely weak. He was rarely sick and the occasions that he were, he roused himself as was able to get back up in time for recording and even performances. His motto had always been ‘If you’re not dying, you can still do whatever needs to be done.’ Actually, it was all of theirs.

“If it has gotten this bad, then the infection has only gotten worse.” The doctor had intoned quite solemnly after Junhoe had been placed in a ward and had requested to speak to immediate family member. There was a box with a white light fixed against the wall and the nurse had pinned two films of x-rays onto it. Both Yunhyeong and Hanbin had glanced at each other nervously, before reverting their attention back to the films.They had immediately brought Junhoe for an emergency MRI, after descending from the ambulance. Both could only hear the EMTs whispering to the hospital staffs attending to Junhoe. They did not even have to say anything, there was a trail of flowers following patient number 038921, who had just been wheeled in through the Accident & Emergency department, every single time he opened his mouth to cough, flowers poured out from between his lips in a wondrous spray. “See this part here just under his lower aesophagus, here?” The doctor pointed to a bump just above the x-ray of Junhoe’s chest. Both Hanbin and Yunhyeong nodded almost simultaneously. “Well, by some miracle, a plant has attached itself here and every time he uses his trachea, it hurtles the germination stage straight into the ripening stage immediately…”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get what you are saying.” Hanbin interrupted. The doctor blinked, quite surprised by the young man’s obvious impatience.

“What I’m saying is he has a plant growing just above his chest and each time he opens his mouth to talk, cough or sneeze, flowers practically bloom and shed their petals from out of his mouths.” The doctor explained in layman’s terms. Hanbin folded his arms and nodded.

“That is quite obvious. What I want to know is, what had caused it? Is it serious? What can be done?” Hanbin’s barrage of questions were tinged with worry and an underlying anger. Yunhyeong knew exactly how he felt. That sense of helplessness when someone you truly care about was sick and you had no clue that they had been suffering at all.

“It’s complicated, young man. I perceived that your young friend has harboured his feelings for way too long without expressing it that it has caused him terminal pain.” The doctor could probably sense that Hanbin was starting to become upset because he had stood up, as if ready to flee the scene at the sign of a flare-up.

“Terminal?” Hanbin intoned coldly. “You mean he could die?!” He added, hands rounded into fists. Yunhyeong held him gently by a shoulder. 

“If he doesn’t get himself properly treated, chances are that he might.” The doctor said with finality. 

“What treatments would you suggest, Doctor?” Yunhyeong asked, still holding Hanbin by the shoulder.

“The medication would help slow down the process for now, but the long-term would be surgery, of course. The complete removal of the infection. Even that, I would say he has about sixty to seventy percent success rate.”

“No…sur-gery.” The voice came from the entrance of the private room the nurse had brought Hanbin and Yunhyeong into. Junhoe was standing, mostly leaning against the doorframe weakly, petals wafting gently onto the floor. Behind him came the hurried footsteps of the nurse on duty, who just realised that her patient was missing from the next room. Yunhyeong ran over as the nurse urged him to return to the ward. Junhoe gazed miserably at Hanbin as Yunhyeong assisted the nurse. “_Hyung_…please, no surgery.”

Hanbin asked Yunhyeong to return to the dorm and packed him clothes for the next few days.

“What about the others?” Yunhyeong asked.

“They can come visit him if they want to. but, whatever the doctor told us, let’s keep it between you and me, for now.” Hanbin instructed. Thankfully, they had schedules for the next few months and the next parental visit would not be until next month. It felt wrong not to inform his family, but knowing Junhoe, Hanbin held out to fulfilling his request, at least until he can convince Junhoe to go for the surgery.

“It’s not that I never told him.” Junhoe’s voice drifted from beneath the knitted covers of the hospital’s blanket. His eyes were opened, but the gaze was directed out the bay windows which showed the quadrangle of the hospital’s Zen garden. It was Jiwon, of course. He did not even needed to say it out loud. Junhoe might think it was his best kept secret so far but the fact that he was head over heels in love with Jiwon was something he failed badly at not showing. The way he immediately blushed whenever they teased him with Jiwon, when Jiwon approaches to talk to him, even the way he was awkward with Jiwon was a dead giveaway. “I tried.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Hanbin whispered from the foot of the bed where he was sitting, not daring to move. Junhoe was no longer spewing petals now, but whole flowers with the buds holding the petals together intact.

“I must.” Junhoe exhaled, his breathing had a ragged quality Hanbin did not really like but listen he must if Junhoe had so wanted him to.

~~~~~

_A month ago…_

They sat on the bench, both trying so hard not to feel awkward, but it was an exercise in all things hopeless and undeniable. Jiwon tugged at his jacket, not feeling cold, just defensive, as Junhoe crossed his long legs, pretending to admire the view of the river, foggy from the onset of autumn’s chill. The waterline was calm and even the cries of the seagulls seem muted today. Junhoe had started the morning filled with resolution; breakfast, texting Jiwon, shower and then waiting for Jiwon’s reply which came at a good two hours’ later because they were always sleep deprived and any rest they could get at the dorm meant sleeping in till afternoon. Only Junhoe had been way too excited to sleep in. He had decided that today was a good day to tell Jiwon how he had felt for the last four years.

“I have something to tell you.” Junhoe finally said after almost fifteen minutes of silence, broken only by chilled breaths and the tapping of Jiwon’s feet encased in sneakers.

“Yeah. I’m listening.” Jiwon muttered nervously.

“You know how everybody is always saying we are awkward with each other?” Junhoe started. Jiwon’s tapping feet had increased significantly.

“I think…that’s just how we are, you know?” Jiwon responded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were suddenly way too dry. He was good at a lot of things, but not this.

“Well, I think it’s more than that.” Junhoe quickly replied. “Maybe, if we try to find more common ground for these feelings that are unspoken…”

“Feelings?” Jiwon countered, chuckling gruffly, gazing down to the cobbled ground, trying to steel himself. “You seem to be keeping some.” Jiwon added and Junhoe smiled nervously. There was something fastidious and uncomfortable about Jiwon’s manner now, something that was almost cold.

“You must know then…that…I…love you, _hyung_.” Junhoe breathed it all out. Jiwon blinked, turning to gaze at Junhoe, looking slightly shocked.

“Well, I love you too.” Jiwon stated.

“I mean, I love you.” Junhoe repeated, this time emphasising each word.

“Oh?” Jiwon realised where this was going. “Junhoe…” He began.

“Please, _hyung_, you don’t have to reply to me with the same candour.” Junhoe interjected. “I just felt it was time I stopped hiding behind my feelings.”

“Junhoe…I cannot love you the way you expect me to.” Jiwon declared through gritted teeth, the smile plastered across his lips, not quite reaching his eyes. The smile Junhoe flashed in return was calm and beatific, but if Jiwon had looked closely into his eyes, he would have seen the pain that was slowly dilating the pupils of those soft brown eyes. Perhaps, it was best that he did not.

“Of course, _hyung_, I was not expecting you to. I just…wanted to have my feelings out, because it was so…stifling.” Junhoe stuttered slightly, without choking or displaying any emotion. They went back to the dorm, as silently as they had arrived at the river. Both went into their respective rooms and in the comfort of his own bed, Junhoe let his tears pour as quietly as the cold breeze that had begun its relentless sweep across the river. He cried and for the next few days, he indulged in drinking heavily and most days he ended up drunk-crying, but he never uttered a word to Jinhwan, who could only witness his tears and remain clueless over what was the cause. 

Up until he coughed that first petal, Junhoe had unknowingly tortured himself silently, suffering in the quiet of his adoration, with no will and reason to live other than to carve Jiwon’s name into his heart. He had pined, written, sung and done just about anything he needed to love that there was simply no room or space for his love to go except to flower, and flower it did, _literal-fucking-ly._

~~~~~

Hanbin pulled Jiwon out by the arm before he could even step into the ward. Junhoe had drifted off to a deep sleep as he recounted his confession to Hanbin, a mess of tears and petals but looking so beautiful to Hanbin all the same.

“What the fuck?!” Jiwon exhaled in surprise and stifled his exclamation when the nurses at the corridor shushed him. Hanbin dragged him all the way to the staircase, purposely releasing him against the wall a little too roughly. “What’s come over you?!”

“You asshole!” Hanbin released his rage unequivocally in the privacy of the corridor, it bounced and echoed back from the hollowed landing, surprising Jiwon, who would on any other occassion would have protested, except he really did not know what he did wrong this time.

“_Waeyo_?!” Jiwon brooded, lips pursed, brows furrowed as if ready to throw his own tantrum. 

“It’s your fault that he is this sick! It’s because of you that he’s dying!” Hanbin fumed, grabbing Jiwon by the collar and shaking him vigorously in irrational fury. Something passed over Jiwon’s face. It was not quite anger, just as much as it was some sort of a frustrating realisation.

“What do you mean because of me?” Jiwon countered as Hanbin’s grip on his collar loosened and he heaved an exhale; as if the fight, the anger broiling within him had somehow fled from him as easy as it had arrived. “Hanbin, what are you saying? Is Junhoe sick because of me?” It was Jiwon’s turn to grab Hanbin by the collar now. His voice suddenly lit with emotions; questioning and filled with a sense of panic. “Damn it, Hanbin, Chanwoo told me he is spewing flowers from his mouth. Is it because of me?!” He raised his voice. Hanbin slithered against the wall down to the floor, fingers raking his hair back, tears culminating in his eyes.

“All you had to do is love him back.” Hanbin whispered in defeat. Jiwon did not even bother to grip anymore. The hushed resignation in Hanbin’s voice explained it all. Jiwon punched his fist against the wall in instinctive retaliation.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” Jiwon screamed, his face now flushed with fuming anger, the veins on his neck appearing, because he was clenching his jaw so tightly. “You told me…” Jiwon argued.

“I know what I told you!” Hanbin was crying now. “I know…and I blame…I blame… myself for it.” He sobbed in between the words, because his emotions were rushing head on out of him, with very little control, overpowering his rational thinking. “I didn’t expect him to suffer this much for it. He must truly…” Hanbin replied in a barrage of words he barely even gave thought to. 

“Love me. He really does.” Jiwon completed the sentence, tears running freely from his eyes. He began wiping them urgently with the backs of his hands. “Hanbin…you asked me to hold back, I can’t now.” Jiwon whispered into the hollowed silence more than to the dejected figure slumped on the floor. “You know I love him but you…”

“I held you back.” Hanbin’s voice was muffled because his hands were covering his face now, Jiwon was not sure if it was because he was ashamed or disappointed with himself. Probably both, if Jiwon knew him the way he would, being his best friend and all. “I told you to refrain from telling him the truth.”

“You did not want things to become complicated. _Your words_.” Jiwon reminded him firmly, without holding anything back now. “You said, if I started something and hurt him, it would affect the group. You said so. “ Jiwon’s words were almost accusatory. “It was more than that, wasn’t it?” He surmised now in the quiet of this unsettling silence.

“At this moment, it doesn’t matter. Go to him now. Tell him you love him and that you always have too. _Ka_.” Hanbin urged, still crying, making no attempt to stop or even wipe his tears. Jiwon gazed at Hanbin in uncertainty. Hanbin, his best friend, who had always been there for him over the years. His leader, who had to become an adult in an accelerated manner, who was forced to be wise for the sake of his team. The same Hanbin who told Jiwon more than a month ago, not to let his emotions cloud his judgement. That if he did decide to admit his true feelings to Junhoe, he would put the dynamics of their team in jeopardy. Jiwon had listened and had reluctantly accepted. Even when Junhoe was confessing to him, Jiwon could barely allow himself to completely accept his own heartbreak, trying not to take into account the confession and how badly he wanted to accept it, embrace Junhoe and maybe if time had allowed, even kiss him for the first time. He had cried into his own pillow, whilst Junhoe had been wallowing in his own grief next door. “_Ka_, Jiwon-ah. I cannot bear to see him suffer this way any longer.”

~~~~~

_Three weeks later…_

“Dinner is served!” Yunhyeong announced happily, settling the big pot of stew onto the pot holder already placed on the table. He had made _samgyetang_, to celebrate Junhoe’s full recovery from his ailment. Everyone cheered happily. Yunhyeong had recorded himself preparing the stew and cooking it, for his vlog, of course. Perhaps, the most important part of today’s dinner was actually celebrating Junhoe’s and Jiwon’s relationship. It had had come as no surprise to most of them, that the two has had feelings for each other for years’ now and everyone, other than Hanbin and Yunhyeong, of course, had truly believed that Junhoe’s recent condition had spurred Jiwon to confess proper and make it official. Yunhyeong scooped the first bowl for Junhoe. He had lost some weight, but it was quite obvious that he was happy again and would probably regain it in due time. Jiwon sat beside him, handing him a spoon and Yunhyeong would bet the rest of the stew left in the pot that they were both holding hands beneath the table.

“There’s not enough spoons!” Donghyuk was shouting now as the rest clamoured for Yunhyeong to scoop the stew for them as well. Jinhwan kept holding out bowls for Yunhyeong to fill but he was not passing them at all. Chanwoo began relegating the bowls while whining and in all this general chaos he had learnt to lived with, Yunhyeong kept his gaze every now and then at the one person who has remained quiet since he announced that the stew was ready. Hanbin stood up, grinning indulgently, assuring Donghyuk he was going to take more spoons from the kitchen. As it is, everyone got their respective bowls and began eating industriously, commenting on how delicious and rich the stew was. Yunhyeong gave his spoon up to Donghyuk to shut him up and almost without notice, retreated back into the kitchen to see what was taking Hanbin so long.

Hanbin had his back to Yunhyeong at the sink and Yunhyeong was pretty sure that the leader was trying his best to grit and remain cheery.

“Are you alright, Hanbinnie?” Yunhyeong asked in concern, walking straight towards Hanbin. Hanbin put his hand up to stop Yunhyeong from advancing any further.

“I’m fine. Just a little under weather. “ Hanbin tried to explained, but Yunhyeong, who knew better placed a hand over one slight shoulder. He was probably crying, Yunhyeong thought. As the leader, Hanbin rarely revealed his thoughts or emotions readily. He would often keep to himself, or keep himself locked away in the studios and pen his emotions into songs rather than sharing them with even those closest to him. It was pretty obvious that from the moment Junhoe had begun spewing petals from between his lips, Hanbin’s overwhelming worry for his condition affected him, more than meets the eye. It was almost as if Hanbin was wracked by a tremendous amount of guilt and he appointed himself to be Junhoe’s caregiver until Jiwon arrived at the hospital to take over.

Once, when Yunhyeong had came early to the hospital, because his mother had bought some ginseng to help speed up Junhoe’s recuperation, he caught Hanbin sleeping by the side of the bed. Now it might not have seem much to just see him fast asleep, head on the edge of the bed near where Junhoe himself was resting quietly. It was the way Hanbin had held Junhoe’s hand, almost tightly gripping, which revealed to Yunhyeong, Hanbin’s love for Junhoe. The petals had completely stopped pouring out of his mouth after two days and another MRI had determined that the growth below his chest level had reduced significantly. Yunhyeong could pinpoint exactly what had caused it.

It had happened right after Hanbin had dragged Jiwon out when the members came to visit Junhoe. They had disappeared somewhere and Jiwon had returned looking as if he had been crying, but with a steely look of determination in his dark brown eyes. He had walked in, sat beside Junhoe and held his hand almost tenderly, a gesture that took all of them by surprise. Junhoe had woken up, struggling to smile only to start coughing up endless reams of petals at the sight of Jiwon, his one true love.

“I’m here, Junhoe-ya. I love you. I love you very much. I always have.” Jiwon whispered, tears falling forward as Jiwon caressed the side of Junhoe’s head.

“But…I thought…” Junhoe wavered.

“It’s you. Always have been you and I’m stupid for not telling you sooner.” Jiwon declared softly. Donghyuk burst out crying and Jinhwan was there to hold him. Yunhyeong retreated to a corner, surreptitiously wiping away the tears that had dribbled down without notice. Chanwoo turned away, quickly rubbing his eyes before the tears actually fell. Only Hanbin remained outside the ward, holding back his sobs, very much aware how broken his heart was knowing that his own selfishness had almost cost the life of the person he truly loves and how he had no other choice, but to let go.

“Hanbin?” Yunhyeong asked quizzically now, still holding Hanbin by one shoulder. He had not answered and once again Yunhyeong wondered if he was crying. He glanced over and it was as if both of them were suddenly stilled by time, unable to move.

A petal lay on Hanbin’s smooth palm. Like a swatch of velvet; the deep dark crimson of a tea rose. More petals began to drift down from between Hanbin’s lips. He turned, gazing at Yunhyeong, unable to utter a single word, his eyes filled with the hapless silence of despair.

_Love is a growth; deadly and soft like the blooms of spring accelerated, hurtling straight into the abyss of winter_.

Hanbin was pretty certain of this.

**END**


End file.
